


Kowalski, Fraser and the Unusually Frisky Legions of the Undead

by Daegaer



Category: due South
Genre: Ghosts, Humor, M/M, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-08
Updated: 2004-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-19 06:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11307759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Ray and Fraser have a disturbed night.





	Kowalski, Fraser and the Unusually Frisky Legions of the Undead

**Author's Note:**

> Written following a discussion of some commonly used terms in fic.

"Why is Canada so damn cold?" Ray said viciously.

"It's winter, Ray."

"Yeah, well it's very pretty, if we weren't going to freeze to death. I am _never_ jumping out of a plane with you again."

Fraser opened his mouth, no doubt to let a pearl of Inuit wisdom on parachuteless sky-diving fall from his lips. Ray glared at him till he just shut his mouth again. Damn straight.

"We'll need to combine our body heat, Ray," Fraser said.

Ray sighed.

"I knew you were going to say that. I even knew you were going to have that innocent look on your face."

Fraser looked confused.

"I don't under–," he started.

"Body heat. Got it," Ray said in resignation, and snugged down.

He awoke to fingers ghosting over his face and neck. A light kiss tickled his ear. He shifted away from Fraser at the same time Fraser inched away from him.

"Fraser?" he said.

"Yes, Ray?"

Fraser's voice sounded strained. Ray decided he could never actually mention this aloud. The guy had probably been dreaming about caribou or Diefenbaker or something.

"Nothing. G'night."

The moon was high overhead when he woke again, fingers touching his face, and his chest and – oh, _shit_. He yelped, pretty much at the same time as Fraser made a remarkably girly sound.

"Fraser! I don't—"

"Ray, it's not that I'm not flattered, but –"

They stared at each other in the moonlight, and both turned over, quickly. After a few moments, Ray cleared his throat.

"Fraser? Could you get your hand off my thigh?"

Silence. Then,

"My hand isn't on your thigh, Ray." Fraser's voice sounded very odd. "I was just about to ask if you were sure about what you're doing."

"What _I'm_ doing?" Ray asked, "I'm not doing anything." Fraser made an odd little quiet sound, and Ray sat bolt upright in horror as the hand on his thigh slipped higher. "I am _not_ doing whatever made you make that noise!"

"Oh," Fraser said in a squeak.

Ray stared down at him, trying to ignore the light touch ghosting over the back of his neck, and the breath blowing delicately at his hair.

"You still only have two hands, right, Fraser?" he asked.

"Yes, Ray."

"And they're still attached to your arms, right?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Argh!" Ray screamed, leapt to his feet and fled across the moonlit snow.

"I concur," Fraser said, grabbing up their things. He tipped his hat to the empty glade. " . . . Good evening, er, ma'am. Or sir," he said, and ran at top speed after his vanished partner.


End file.
